Mrs O'Neill
by Majikthize
Summary: Just an outsider's glimpse into General O'Neill's life.


Many thanks to Josiane for the wonderful and extremely prompt beta job on this. Happy Ship Day, everyone!

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The General lived in a fairly modest house, Sergeant Christopher Penn thought, as he entered the den and looked out for familiar faces. He'd half expected to find himself at a grand old Virginia farmhouse with ten bedrooms, and two dozen acres of land. While the dwelling was by no means tiny, it wasn't what Chris expected given the immense responsibility that General O'Neill carried and, presumably, the pay check that went with it. This was warm and pleasant and homely, he thought as he glanced around the room, noticing the relaxed faces of people he'd never seen in civilian dress before this moment. As he caught the eyes of Walter, Chris nodded a greeting, but Walter was deep in conversation with Lieutenant Carmichael and just nodded in return before continuing his conversation. Walter was a bit odd, Chris had to concede, but he'd gone out his way to make Chris feel at home. He had only been working for General O'Neill a handful of weeks so he wasn't that familiar with, well, anyone really. Feeling slightly awkward and not wanting to butt in to conversations mid-stream, he took a swig of the beer he'd been handed (by the General himself as he greeted him at the door) and just took a good look around, trying to get more of a feel on what kind of man was behind the military façade.

In truth, he was still reeling slightly by the enormity of the command he now worked for. He'd been assigned to take minutes of a meeting at which General O'Neill had been present. Halfway through things got delicate. Well, ok, things got heated. That was the first time Chris realised O'Neill was not a man to mince his words and he sure had some choice words for the civilian representatives at that meeting. But then the General had done something very unusual. He had turned to Chris and asked for his impartial opinion on the contentious issue. Chris had given his opinion – honestly and openly just like his grandmother taught him - which just happened to disagree with the General's. In all honesty, Chris thought he'd crapped all over his career at that point – bye bye OTS, oh well. But the very next day General O'Neill called him into his office, grilled him for about an hour and then, bizarrely, told him he was transferred to his command, and - after the necessary paperwork - exactly what that command did.

Since then his world was turned upside down, inside out and back to front. The fact that there was an entire galaxy of planets inhabited by civilisations and people from Earth were flying about in spaceships and "gating" across the hundreds of light years (and he didn't want to think about the whole demolecularisation thing too hard) was something he'd only just about adjusted to. The paperwork involved in managing all that was just as staggering.

So, Chris mused as he glanced at the huge-but-comfortable couch, the large fireplace stacked with logs and then over to the alcove with a wide plinth covered in photos of smiling faces, for a man who had so much responsibility and such an unorthodox way of doing things, to live in such a normal family home? Well, he'd not expected that.

He glanced out the window at the torrential rain, still coming down in sheets and washing out any chance of the planned barbeque – apparently an annual fixture on the Home World Command social calendar – and wondered whether the General was joking when he said he'd make up a fire in the hearth and move the grilling indoors. He wandered towards the alcove with the plinth sporting a whole bunch of photos, all beautifully framed. His eyes scanned them and he spotted some familiar faces and some not so. The first picture was of a somewhat younger General O'Neill. He stood with a woman and a young boy in front of a house, smiling and happy. This must be Mrs O'Neill and his son, Chris assumed; he'd seen pictures of the boy in O'Neill's office but never, strangely enough, Mrs O'Neill, and he never heard anyone mention her either. There was an older black and white picture next to the first one, three older teens, one of which was almost certainly the General and the other two who bore a resemblance (brothers or cousins maybe?) and an older man who might have been their father, or uncle; they were stood in front of an old crop duster grinning from ear to ear. Next to this was a group photo that, ah, Chris recognised. This was the General's old team, SG-1; he had heard a lot about them. Again they were somewhat younger and dressed in full mission gear but he'd met Colonel Carter and Doctor Jackson already so he recognised them instantly even though they had both changed a bit. He hadn't met Teal'c yet but knew of him. The General stood in the middle, arms casually draped one across Colonel Carter's shoulders and one across Teal'c's, with Doctor Jackson doing the same the other side of Carter. The General was turned slightly towards Carter and she towards him with a mischievous smile that made him think they were sharing a private joke. He moved on to the next photo. This one was of a young lady he didn't recognise; she stood on a lawn with a wedding gazebo in the background, wearing a pretty cerulean blue gown and corsage of white flowers on her wrist and in her swept up golden brown hair. Next to this, another picture of a young girl – a toddler maybe only two years old – with sandy blonde curls and chocolate brown eyes that were unmistakably O'Neill. Granddaughter maybe, Chris thought; he reasoned that the boy in the first picture was probably old enough to have children by now. Chris moved along the plinth; here was another picture of SG-1, this one taken much more recently but in an almost identical pose as the first. The most notable difference was the social setting since, judging by the festive decor around them, they appeared to be at the same wedding as the young lady in the previous photo; they seemed relaxed and happy. The General was again standing with his arms draped around Colonel Carter's and Teal'c's shoulders and he was turned almost fully towards Carter laughing quite heartily at something that they were all grinning about. Either side of them Teal'c and Doctor Jackson looked inwards towards the General, both beaming. Chris noted that the men all wore suits with a white buttonhole that matched the flowers in the bouquet Carter was holding behind Doctor Jackson's back. She also had tiny white flowers in her dressed up hair and wore a dress similar to the young lady's in the previous photo but in a very much paler colour. Clearly they'd been at someone's wedding and someone close to Colonel Carter since she was obviously part of the bridal party; he wondered whose wedding they had been at and made a mental note to ask Walter about it.

His eyes moved on to another picture; this one much older again; a slightly blurry family group; a fair haired boy and girl, both pre-teens, and two adults sitting on a lawn in front of a house. Then another group portrait containing a fair haired man and a darker haired woman with two young children, the younger of whom bore a strong similarity to the toddler in the picture he'd seen before. There was a photo of an older man- a Major General that Chris didn't recognise - and then one of General Hammond that Chris did but, sadly, only through photos. And then another photo, this of a woman taken some time in the 1970's judging by her clothes and hairstyle, who looked strikingly like Colonel Carter, forcing Chris to wonder if they weren't related somewhere down the line. He made himself another mental note to ask Walter about that too. Then another of the young lady who'd been in the blue dress, this time sitting on a bench with the toddler from the other picture sitting on her lap, and then one of General O'Neill taken fairly recently in full service dress and wearing the medal of honour that Chris knew he had but had never yet seen.

But it was the final picture that made his heart thump. A woman (obvious by her, uh, curves) stood in full leathers and helmet next to the most beautiful object he'd ever seen. It was an Indian Scout; the kind Mr Phillips from next door used to ride when he was a kid, except Mr Phillips's bike was battered and rusty. Nevertheless he was just about the coolest dude on the block because he always used to let the kids ride pillion and take them out for speed runs down the storm drains on Saturday afternoons. Whether it was the happy childhood memory or the passion for the bike, he didn't know, but he knew that 'own my own Scout' was right up there on his 'must-do' list one day. This one was pristine; beautiful and gleaming and obviously lovingly kept; a simple delight to his eyes. He found his fingers tracing the contours of the saddle and petrol sump and knew he was probably wearing a daft grin but didn't care.

"Do you like motorbikes?" General O'Neill's voice cut through his thoughts and Chris nearly jumped. He turned and automatically straightened to attention on seeing the General stood just behind him.

"Uh, yes, Sir," Chris stammered out. "Do you?"

O'Neill's mouth quirked up at the corners as he placed a hand on Chris's shoulder, "At ease, Chris," the General said and Chris found that he relaxed considerably. O'Neill nodded at the picture. "Actually that's my wife's bike."

Chris felt he ought to make some conversation. " Oh. Does she then? I mean like bikes too, Sir?"

The General shrugged. "Well, she found that one in a garage sale, piece of junk that it was, and restored it." He smiled. "Took her years. Which is ironic since she only just really finished when... she had to stop riding it because... well all sorts of reasons. I think we took it out maybe three times together." O'Neill sighed again and looked slightly rueful. Anyway, she never gets the chance to ride it these days."

"No?" Chris asked. "That's a shame."

"She's... away a lot." Again, O'Neill looked sad but then his expression brightened. "She's thinking about selling it now; damn thing's just rusting out there so might as well."

"Ah that's a shame," Chris repeated and, feeling like he needed to add more, "I've always wanted one of those. That particular one anyway. They're just so..." he paused, trying to find the right word.

"Powerful?" O'Neill supplied and then shrugged again. "At least that's what she says."

Chris tried to ignore the wicked gleam that had entered his CO's eyes; some things you didn't need to hear about. "Um, did you know that on the flat, hot dry you can coax them to top one hu..."

"Argh!" The General held up his hand to stop him.

"Sorry Sir." Chris said, remembering the General's reaction to Colonel Carter's attempt to spout technical stuff on their last video call. He suspected the General understood the technical stuff as well as the next person but he just didn't want to hear it.

General O'Neill pulled a face and tilted his head to one side, and then his face grew thoughtful. "You know the real thing is out in the garage. I'm sure if you find my wife and ask her, she'll show you round it. I'd suggest a ride but," he gestured towards the window and the rain still falling heavily, "not really the weather for a test drive I guess."

"No, Sir... I mean, yes, Sir. I mean, I'd love a look at her if that's ok." Chris wondered what it was about the General that was making him trip over his words today. Perhaps the social occasion was unsettling him.

"Well, I'm busy," - he gestured to the arm-full of steak that, apparently, he really was going to grill up right here in the fireplace - "but she's in the office right now, second door down the hall. Go tell her I sent you." He patted Chris on the shoulder with his one free hand again, smiled and turned away to stoke up some flames.

Chris grinned. The chance to see his dream bike up close and fully restored. He wasn't turning that down. He put his half-drunk beer down on a side table and made his way to the office. The door was slightly ajar and he could hear a voice but he knocked anyway before slowly pushing the door open. Surprisingly Chris found himself face to face with Colonel Carter, who had clearly ducked into the office to handle a call on her cellphone. "Yeah, I know. If that doesn't work strip it right back and reinstall the whole thing from scratch..."

Chris mouthed a sorry when he realised the person he was looking for was not here and was about to back out slowly when she gestured to him to stay. He automatically obeyed.

"... yeah I know but at least you can retrace each step to find the problem that way... no, hopefully not... no, that's ok, call me back if you need to." She hung up and turned to Chris with a smile. "Sergeant... Penn isn't it?"

"Yes, Ma'am." Chris replied. "Sorry Ma'am, I didn't mean to interrupt..."

The Colonel waved a hand at him in a gesture eerily reminiscent of the General. "I was done. What can I do for you, Sergeant?"

"Uh, nothing, Ma'am, I was actually looking for Mrs O'Neill. The General said I would find her here, I'm sorry to have disturbed you."

Colonel Carter gave him the oddest little smile and then her grin widened. "OK. Well then, what did you want with Mrs O'Neill?"

"Oh, it's nothing Ma'am, I just...the General mentioned she has an Indian. I was... admiring a photo of it. The General said I could have a look at the real thing if I wanted."

Colonel Carter smiled again. "Well, sure you can! Follow me." She breezed past him and headed down the hall to the far end, beckoning him to follow.

"Uh, will General O'Neill mind, Ma'am? " Chris asked, feeling slightly uneasy that they were both wandering around his house uninvited. Well, ok, not quite uninvited, but still.

"Not at all, Sergeant... what's your first name?"

"Christopher, Ma'am. Chris."

"Well, Chris, have a look at this." She pushed open the end door and they stepped into a cool garage space. In the middle was a flat back Ford truck, dominating the room; behind this a smaller town car that was surprisingly modest (again another example of how simply and unpretentiously the O'Neills seemed to live); and then at the very end, to one side, was a green canvas dust cover over what could only have been the Indian. Chris felt his spine tingle with excitement as they approached.

"Go ahead," Colonel Carter advised and nodded. Chris grabbed the dust cover and slowly lifted it.

It was everything he imagined.

Perfect.

Gleaming.

Beautifully restored.

"Wow!" He exclaimed and knelt to inspect it closer. Tentatively, he reached out a hand and lightly touched the cool chrome. "Oh, this is a beauty!" he added, allowing the metal to cool his skin. His hand travelled down and caressed the spokes – polished to perfection - and then he ran them over the curve of the petrol tank – black with the letters picked out in gold just the way he always imagined it should be. "She is a beauty."

"Yes she is," the Colonel added, resting her hand on the seat and sighing wistfully. "Such a shame she doesn't get ridden." Her hand travelled over the handle bars polishing away an imaginary smear.

Chris looked up. "Do you like bikes too, Ma'am?"

Colonel Carter smiled. "Oh yeah." She sighed and he noticed the loving way she looked at the bike, as if remembering fond moments with a loved one. It seemed she too had a passion for the Indian. She sighed again and seemed to resolve something. "You know this one is for sale don't you?"

Chris looked up at her and stood. "General O'Neill mentioned she was thinking of it, yes."

She sighed again. "Well, might as well. This needs to be ridden not just sit around looking pretty."

Chris thought. He wondered how much Mrs O'Neill would sell it for? Not that he could afford it of course but it wouldn't hurt to ask her when he found her. "I wonder what she'd want for it?" he muttered out loud.

The Colonel pulled a face and her words echoed his thoughts. "You think you can afford it?"

"Probably not." He sighed. "Do you think _you'd_ put an offer in for it Ma'am?"

The Colonel gave him that odd smile again. "Well... that would rather defeat the object, don'tcha think?"

Chris frowned, not quite getting what she meant, but then remembered she spent a lot of time off world on _The Hammond_ so probably wouldn't be able to ride it much more than it got ridden now anyway. "I guess."

The Colonel shrugged. "Well if you really want it, and I can see you'd take care of her, we could do some kind of deal. Pay in instalments. I'm not really selling her for the money so I'm in no rush for that. All I want is for her to have a good home with someone who'll keep her sweet, ride her regularly and bring her by for visits when I'm home."

"Oh I'd do all..." Hang on. Did she just say? Chris stopped himself. Whose bike was this?

"Um, Ma'am, isn't this Mrs O'Neill's bike?"

Colonel Carter smiled that tight, odd smile again. "Yes."

Chris was confused now. "But then..."

And then it clicked.

The photo in the General's office of Colonel Carter in service dress, proud and official looking; the wedding photo where the General was grinning madly at her and the realisation that he was not just laughing with her but looking lovingly at her too and it was _their_ wedding they were at; the family portraits that he now realised were her side of their family because this was their family home... and the one of the toddler that had _his_ eyes but, now he knew, looked so much like her too.

His mouth opened and closed like a fish, but before he could say anything, Colonel Carter – Mrs O'Neill, actually – laughed. "It's ok, Sergeant. It's not like we go around shouting about it and you are fairly new. I guess you haven't had the full story from the team yet. Personally I think Jack gets a strange kind of kick out the whole discretion thing and seeing people's reactions when the find out. He can be pretty perverse like that."

"Oh, Ma'am. I'm sorry..." and then he realised his foot was back in his mouth. "I mean, I'm sorry I didn't realise. I, well, congratulations Ma'am, I'm sure you make a great couple."

"We do." It was General O'Neill, who was standing at the door to the garage watching them with amusement, leaving Chris to wonder just how long he'd been there.

Colonel Carter beamed with pride and undisguised happiness at her husband, and he beamed back at her as he came to put an arm over her shoulders. She leaned into him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Frankly, Chris thought, they looked about as perfect together as any couple could, and he suddenly found himself wondering why he hadn't seen it before. "D'oh!" he uttered.

General O'Neill laughed. "So, are you going to make my wife an offer on that thing or not?"

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~The End~

Thanks for reading! Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome.


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